


Hugs Are For Losers

by platonic_boner



Series: Hugs Are For Losers [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drunkenness, Fluff, Hypothermia, M/M, Magic Made Them Do It, Pre-Relationship, by do it i mean cuddle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 01:50:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5272121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/platonic_boner/pseuds/platonic_boner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Arthur pretends he doesn’t want a hug from Merlin, and one time he asks for one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hugs Are For Losers

**1.**

Merlin’s horse is wounded in an ambush in the Valley of the Fallen Kings. She saves his life, but once the battle has ended, it’s clear that she’ll pay for it with her own.

Arthur draws his sword.

“Arthur!” Merlin yelps.

Arthur’s glance at him is pitying. “She’s in pain, Merlin. This is quicker.”

Merlin knows he’s right, but still. He kneels next to the downed horse’s head. He pats her, whispering softly in her ear about how brave she is.

“Merlin?” Arthur asks.

“Go on,” Merlin says, without looking at him, still patting the mare.

Arthur makes it as quick and painless as he can.

Merlin closes her eyes and keeps patting her, brushing her mane with his hands, until Arthur clears his throat. He noticed Arthur mounting a few moments ago, but ignored him, waiting for his order. Now, Merlin pushes to his feet, sniffling, and starts walking along the long road back to Camelot.

Merlin expects Arthur to ride the whole way. Hopefully he will take frequent breaks for Merlin, but more probably he will trot most of the way to take amusement at making Merlin run. He does _not_ expect Arthur to guide his horse to stop next to Merlin and say, “Up you get.”

He looks up at Arthur with disbelieving, still-tear-filled eyes. Arthur sighs, looking extremely put-upon to have a servant who’s currently grieving over a dead horse, and pats the saddle in front of him.

Merlin’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He scrambles up onto Arthur’s horse, very awkwardly - it takes a couple tries.

“All right there?” Arthur says, sarcastically, twisting to look back at him.

“I’m fine, no thanks to you,” Merlin snaps.

“Good,” Arthur replies, and kicks his horse into a gallop.

Merlin shrieks and throws his arms around Arthur’s neck. He barely saves himself from plummeting to the forest floor.

“If you strangle me,” Arthur objects - and he does sound a little strained - “You’ll be killed for treason, you do know that?”

“Then don’t try to kill me!” Merlin yelps.

Arthur laughs. “Fair enough.”

He drops back into a walk and Merlin drops his arms down around Arthur’s waist. (He doesn’t trust Arthur not to break into a gallop again as soon as Merlin’s attention wavers.)

Somehow by the time they’ve gotten back to Camelot, Merlin’s fast asleep with his chin propped on Arthur’s shoulder. He wakes up in his bed the next morning with no memory of how he got there.

 

**2.**

Merlin glares at the poultice that he's just pulled out from under Arthur's pillow. It's always a bad sign when there's magic cast on Arthur, unless Merlin is the one doing it. Merlin pulls the poultice apart, keeping one eye on Arthur to make sure he doesn't wake up. (If _only_ there were some way to guarantee Arthur would keep sleeping!) He recognizes its ingredients because he spent ages asking Gaius about just this spell. Questions like: "Can you really make someone fall in love with you?"

Gaius had a long, philosophical answer, but Merlin now has a much simpler one: "Not if you use rosemary instead of rose petals, you _idiot_."

He groans. He'd almost - no, no, he'd _definitely_ rather if the spell had been cast successfully. Merlin has gotten _good_ at combatting love spells and reasoning with an all-too-literally enchanted Arthur. Now, Merlin has no idea what the spell will do. It's possible it will do nothing, of course, but when has Merlin's life ever gone that smoothly?

Well, if he's honest, Merlin's life was pretty smooth before he met Arthur. Merlin looks at the sleeping prince and can't blame him, though.

Arthur lets out a loud snore and Merlin sighs. He needs to know what the spell has done and how to fix Arthur before anyone else sees him. But he can't wake Arthur up to check on him. Well, he _could_ , but he'd be mucking out stables and doing whatever horribly inventive, awful chores Arthur could come up with for the next week. So, Merlin _refuses_ to wake him. Instead, he steals Arthur's fluffiest blanket, drags a chair in front of the door so Arthur can't sneak past him in the middle of the night on some enchantment-fueled whim, and curls up to sleep.

He wakes up to a dark room. He doesn't know what woke him for a moment, until he hears it again: a pitiful, lonely sound from the direction of Arthur's bed.

"Arthur? It's Merlin, I'm right here," Merlin says, quickly going to him. "Are you hurt?"

"Hurt? Why would I be hurt?"

Merlin hesitates. Sometimes telling Arthur he's been enchanted is the best possible idea, and sometimes it's the worst.

"Merlin, what's going on?" Arthur demands. "What are you doing here?"

"I think someone put a spell on you at the feast last night," Merlin admits. "But I don't know what it does."

"I do," Arthur mutters.

"What?" Merlin demands. "If I tell Gaius, maybe he'll know of some remedy."

Arthur's eyes widen. "You're not telling Gaius. You're not telling _anyone_ , understand?"

"Arthur, you've been cursed," Merlin argues. "Of course we're telling someone!"

"We're not telling _anyone_ that the crown prince wants -" Arthur breaks off, suddenly, and Merlin can see the horror in his eyes.

"What do you want?" Merlin asks softly.

Arthur shakes his head.

"Come on," Merlin prods, gently. "You know you can trust me. I won't make fun of you for being cursed, Arthur, and I _can_ keep a secret if I want to. And I promise I'll keep this one."

Merlin watches Arthur turning that over in his head. Then, finally, so quietly Merlin can barely hear him, Arthur says, "I just want a hug."

Merlin snorts. Arthur yelps, "You said you wouldn't make fun of me!"

"I said I wouldn't make fun of you for being cursed. I'm making fun of you for being a complete prat who thinks asking for hugs is embarrassing. Come on, move over," Merlin says, shoving at the prince's shoulder.

"What? No," Arthur snaps.

Merlin decides to completely misunderstand him. "Oh, you like this side of the bed, do you? Fine by me." He leaps into the bed on the opposite side from Arthur, and then wriggles over.

"Merlin, get _out_ of my bed, I said I wanted a hug, not to sleep with you!"

"Well, _I'm_ tired, so you're getting both." Merlin presses himself along Arthur's side, and then tries to pull the prince against him. He doesn't expect Arthur to so much as budge, given the prince's superior strength and his protests, but apparently Arthur _really_ wants this hug, because he rolls obediently into Merlin's arms so that they're chest to chest, arms around each other.

"All right?" Merlin asks softly. He'll let go if Arthur really doesn't want to be cuddled, but the original spell was set to last at least 48 hours - you know, long enough to get someone to marry you - and he thinks Arthur probably needs this, even if he won't admit it.

"Can I," Arthur starts.

"Yeees?" Merlin asks creepily.

"Can I roll over?"

"You want to spoon?" Merlin asks delightedly. "You want to be the _little spoon_?"

"Merlin, I said no mocking!"

Merlin makes sure to remove every trace of mockery from his voice. "I'd love to spoon with you," he says, meeting Arthur's eyes so deeply and meaningfully that it’s even worse than mocking.

Arthur smacks him, but then turns around. Merlin puts his top arm around Arthur's bare waist and the other underneath the pillow and their heads. He mingles his legs with Arthur's, figuring Arthur will let him know if that's too much. Finally, he burrows his nose into the soft hair at the back of Arthur's neck.

"Better?" he asks.

Arthur _purrs_ , then clears his throat and says, "Yes, Merlin, now go to sleep."

Merlin does.

(For Arthur's sake, and probably the kingdom's, it would be best if the spell wore off soon. But Merlin can't help hoping it lasts a few days. Or maybe forever.)

 

**3.**

Merlin rarely _actually_ visits the tavern. This means he’s got no tolerance to alcohol at all. So when Arthur challenges that he can drink Merlin under the table, Merlin knows he shouldn’t take up that bet.

But then Arthur calls him a coward for the fifth time that week, and Merlin grabs the tankard of ale that Arthur offers him.

He pauses for one moment. “You’re paying,” he says.

Arthur rolls his eyes. “Fine.”

Merlin gulps down the ale (and then subdues the coughing fit he nearly has).

Two tankards later, Merlin is very glad he’s sitting down because he’s pretty sure if he weren’t, he’d have fallen over. The floor is wobbling a lot as it is. 

“Whoa!” Arthur laughs, grabbing him. He straightens Merlin up, patting his shoulder heartily. “Give up, yet, Merlin?”

Merlin glares at where he _thinks_ Arthur’s face is. “ _Never_.”

The barmaid plonks another pitcher of ale in front of them both. Merlin only gets through half of his before he falls off the bench he’s sitting on.

The next thing he knows, Arthur is carrying him through the streets of Camelot, one arm beneath Merlin’s knees and the other supporting his shoulders. Merlin keeps his eyes tightly closed in the hopes Arthur won’t realize he’s conscious and drop him, but to no avail: Arthur immediately tries to put Merlin down to walk on his own, leaning down and trying to get Merlin to put his legs on the ground.

“No,” Merlin snuffles into Arthur’s neck, refusing to be set down. He clings to Arthur with all four limbs.

“I could put you in the stocks for this!” Arthur tells him.

Merlin kicks him to try and make him move.

“I cannot believe you,” Arthur says. But he does start to walk. “Someday I’ll be crowned king, and everyone will tell the story of how I once carried you through the streets and question my right to rule.”

Merlin pats his back sympathetically.

“You had better not remember this in the morning,” Arthur grumbles.

They pass a guard on the way into the castle. Merlin hears a snort and then a quick “sorry, sire.” He props his head onto Arthur’s shoulder so he can wave at the guard behind Arthur’s back on their way by. The guard grins and waves back.

Arthur takes him all the way to his bed and pulls the covers up over him.

 

**4.**

The flu has invaded Camelot. Merlin got over it a few days ago, and Arthur has been bragging about how he never gets sick, so they're the ones Gaius sends out into the cold to fetch the bark he needs for the healing tea. They don't take horses because they're going deep into the forest and riding would just be asking to be smacked in the head with a branch. Unfortunately, this means there's no chance of them getting back to Camelot in time when the storm strikes. 

"There's a cave nearby," Arthur says. “Come on!”

Merlin's jacket and scarf do absolutely nothing to shelter him from the harsh wind and the blowing snow. The enormous flakes seem determined to burrow under his clothes, soaking him to the skin, and they cake his face and hair until Merlin is sure he looks like a drowned and frozen rat. Arthur, meanwhile, has got his thick cloak pulled over him, and his big leather gloves, and with his head bowed against the storm, Merlin bets jealously that he's hardly even cold.

He tries to keep up with Arthur in order to use him as a wind block, but it's so windy that Merlin's slighter body keeps being pushed off course, and it's hard to move. Merlin’s tired already, and it appears he and Arthur have different opinions on what constitutes “nearby”.

Arthur turns, notices him lagging, and pauses for him to catch up. Merlin struggles over, and Arthur grabs his arm.

"Keep up!" he orders, straight into Merlin's ear so Merlin can hear him over the wind. "If you get lost, I'm not coming to find you."

If Merlin gets lost, he's pretty sure Arthur will also die of cold searching for him. But Merlin's perfectly happy that Arthur thinks he's incompetent enough that he needs to be pulled along, because Arthur's breaking the wind for him a little.

"We're almost there," Arthur says, and Merlin wonders how he can even _find_ the cave in the snowstorm, but then suddenly they're inside a little hollow of rock and the roar of the wind has almost gone silent. Merlin sighs in relief and drops to the ground, huddling in on himself and hugging his own knees for warmth.

Arthur drops the packs of bark and their sparse provisions on the ground. He turns and looks like he's about to give Merlin an order, but then changes his mind. "I'll go get us some firewood," he says. "Stay here."

Arthur pulls the cloak back over his head and walks back into the storm. Within seconds the red flash has disappeared entirely into the white blur beyond the cave. Merlin, abandoned, tries to brush the snow off of himself, but too much has already melted into his clothing and soaked him through entirely with freezing cold water. Merlin doesn't think he's ever been this cold before in his life.

He's seen Gaius treat cases of hypothermia and he knows keeping cold, wet clothes on is a bad idea. But then he thinks about Arthur's face if Arthur came back and Merlin was undressing. Also, Gaius treats patients in the warmth of the castle, or in homes with fires - should Merlin still undress when it's still freezing cold in the cave?

Merlin shivers and deliberates until Arthur returns.

"Set this up, will you?" Arthur says, dropping the wood at Merlin's feet. Arthur turns away to brush the snow off his cloak, and Merlin scrambles to obey because if he does it while Arthur's still distracted, he can light the fire by magic and Arthur will be none the wiser. But between shaking the snow off the branches and setting them up and searching for the flint, all the while using fingers that are trembling so much they're nearly useless, Arthur's paying attention again by the time Merlin's ready to light the fire.

Merlin considers it anyways, because he's just that cold. Unfortunately, he's also so cold that the first time he tries to strike the flints together, his shivering means he misses entirely.

Arthur bellows out a laugh and says, "Give it here, you idiot," and snatches the flints. Well, there's any chance at a fire gone.

Arthur tries for ten whole minutes to light the wood, but it's far too damp from the snow and from recent rains. No matter how many sparks he showers the wood with, it won't light. "Damn it," he mutters.

Merlin thinks he might cry.

His hands are mostly purple but his fingertips are getting white. He can't feel his toes and when he brushes the tips of his ears with his hands, he isn't sure they even belong to him. Arthur watches with concern.

"Look, Merlin," he says. "We'll probably be stuck here until morning, and then we'll be trying to get through the snow back to Camelot. We might as well get some rest."

Merlin stares at him incredulously. "Yes, because I'll freeze to death much slower in my sleep."

Arthur ignores him and lies down next to his failure of a fire. He unclasps the cloak, laying it over him like a blanket, and then lifts one cloak-covered arm like an invitation. "Get some rest," he repeats.

Merlin stares at him incredulously, raising his eyebrows.

Arthur rolls his eyes and nods.

Merlin's too cold to resist. He cuddles into Arthur, only to be immediately shoved away.

He makes a protesting noise. "You said I could!"

"You're soaked! Has Gaius taught you nothing?"

Merlin glares at him. 

"Take your clothes off. Honestly, you'd be dead without me."

"You'd've been dead first," Merlin retorts, his voice muffled as he pulls his shirt over his head. Once he's down to his undergarments, which are somewhat damp but Merlin would rather get a frostbitten arse than get completely naked in front of Arthur and cuddle with him - because he's pretty sure he would never hear the end of it - Arthur lets him back under the cloak, tucking his arm around Merlin's back as well. Without Merlin's clothing to leech away all the warm, Arthur's body and the blanket feel wonderful. He burrows his nose into Arthur's neck, which gets him a displeased grunt.

"Pretty sure I'd outlast you," Arthur argues, and Merlin remembers that they were having a conversation a moment or two ago, back before he entered this wondrous cloud of warmth.

"I saved your life, remember? Even though you were a prat. Without me, you'd be long gone."

"Yes, but had I been more of a prat, I'd've killed you for attacking me."

"You could've tried."

Arthur snorts. "I told you I could take you with one blow, Merlin, and nothing I've seen since has changed my opinion."

"And I told _you_ I could take you with less than that, and I stand by that too," Merlin says, grinning into Arthur's neck.

"No one's ever going to believe that," Arthur says, and then he yells, " _Argh!_ "

Merlin has just stuck his hands up Arthur's shirt, in the small of his back, which is surprisingly warm. 

"Merlin," Arthur starts threateningly.

"I can't clean your armour without fingers, sire," Merlin says innocently.

Arthur sighs. "Fine. Can you feel your feet?"

"Parts of them."

Arthur sits up, dramatically tucking Merlin in with the cloak when Merlin makes a noise of protest, and tugs off his own boots. He returns before Merlin has a chance to miss his warmth too much, gathering Merlin up and pressing his warm, bare legs against Merlin's feet.

"That should be better soon," Arthur says. "It may hurt to warm up, but that's good."

Merlin knows that, because Gaius has said it to many patients. But it's still nice to hear Arthur tell him that, so comfortingly and caringly. Merlin snuggles a little closer, tugging Arthur's shirt to bring the prince nearer to him. Arthur responds by tightening the arm around Merlin, and Merlin can't help making a little noise of contentment.

"I'm sure it goes without saying," Arthur murmurs into Merlin's ear, "that if you _ever_ tell _anyone_ about this, we'll find out whether or not I can kill you.”

 

**5.**

On their way through a small village, Merlin and Arthur had passed a little girl who'd stared up at them with wide eyes and asked them to come help. Arthur had told her they had urgent business, but Merlin looked at him like he was the devil incarnate and knelt in front of the girl.

"What's wrong?" Merlin had asked, which ended - much to Arthur's very evident displeasure - with them helping the girl's older, and apparently much stupider, brother climb down from a tree.

The girl thanked Merlin and gave him a little trinket - a tiny sewed and stuffed rabbit made of yellow and blue fabric that matched her dress. Merlin had grinned and told her he'd treasure it.

Hours later, when Merlin and Arthur settle down in an inn for the night, Arthur's still sore about it. (It probably doesn't help that Merlin is making the rabbit hop around the table - manually, that is, like a small child rather than a sorcerer - but how can he stop it when it clearly aggravates Arthur so much?)

"I'm the one who did all the hard work," Arthur insists. "You just stood around talking nonsense about unicorns to her! And besides, _I'm_ the prince - aren't little girls supposed to fall in love with princes?"

"First of all, it's creepy that you want a five-year-old to fall in love with you," Merlin informs him. "And second, you were grumpy and unapproachable the whole time, and I was my charming self."

Arthur snorts. Merlin makes the rabbit do an especially large hop, practically popping his arm out of its socket in his enthusiasm.

"Give me that," Arthur snarls, lunging.

Merlin throws himself backwards away from the prince, knocking over his chair in the process. "It's mine!"

Arthur wrestles him for it.

In other words, Arthur takes the rabbit away from him in about two seconds flat.

He sticks it in his back pocket. "It's a child’s toy, Merlin, it's beneath you."

Merlin glares, but saves his efforts to get it back for when Arthur isn't expecting it. When he passes Arthur to turn down the bedclothes, he tries slipping a hand into the pocket, but Arthur grabs his wrist and twists it up behind his back and calls him an embarrassment of a pickpocket. When Arthur insists on bathing, he reaches into the pocket of Arthur's discarded pants. Arthur says, "Looking for this?" and waves the rabbit at Merlin from the bath.

"You're bathing with the child's toy," Merlin says.

"Trying to embarrass me won't get you your rabbit back, either, Merlin," Arthur retorts. "Now come wash my back."

Merlin has to watch the rabbit dancing on Arthur's knees the whole time, because Arthur is a prat.

Arthur's an attention-seeking prat, though, so Merlin spends the next hour steadfastly ignoring him, except to promptly and pleasantly obey whatever orders Arthur gives him. It's clear that Arthur's going to go mad if Merlin doesn't give him some attention soon - he's actually started talking to the rabbit, and Merlin knows it's just a matter of time before the rabbit starts talking back in Arthur's horrible falsetto.

He says, "I'd like to apologize for lording the rabbit over you."

"Really, Merlin?" Arthur says, sounding completely astonished.

"Yes. Really. I know you've been under a lot of pressure, and taking trips like this is your only escape, and I shouldn't ruin them with - with my immaturity."

"Indeed," Arthur says, his chest practically puffing up. "But you haven't been so awful, Merlin, you're not completely unforgivable."

"I just wish there was something I could do to make you feel better," Merlin continues. And then launches himself at the prince.

Not to wrestle with him, because Merlin isn't stupid enough to think he'd win. No, Merlin throws his arms around Arthur's neck and hugs him, tight.

And there - that's his window. There's a split second, as Merlin expected, in between his initiation of the hug and Arthur's rejection of it by shoving him away. There's a second where Arthur lets himself be held and breathes in Merlin's scent and relaxes, utterly.

Which is when Merlin, who is maybe the devil incarnate himself, steals the rabbit back from Arthur's trusting hand.

He then stumbles across the room from Arthur's shove, but he regains his footing and waggles the rabbit at Arthur.

"You - you - " Arthur says, incoherent with the indignity of being simultaneously hugged and tricked by his manservant.

Merlin retreats to the small servant's mattress in the corner of the room, and makes the rabbit hop around on his pillow until it's time for bed.

("Is Arthur unbelievably gullible?" he asks the rabbit. "Yes," it answers, in Merlin's falsetto.)

 

**+1.**

“Just, just - just hold me. Please.”

**Author's Note:**

> If sad endings aren't your thing, check out the next work in the series. Sorry!


End file.
